


Sons of Fury

by kindauthor



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bikers, Avengers Family, Bikers, Bisexual Character, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Is Gay, Explicit Consent, F/F, F/M, Family Dynamics, If they exist in MCU they will /probably/ show up, Inspired by Sons of Anarchy, Lesbian Character, M/M, Multi, No graphic descriptions of rape/non-con, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Avengers, Slow Burn, Violence, content tags:, mentions of assault, my tags:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindauthor/pseuds/kindauthor
Summary: Promise, California is only about a hundred miles from the Mexican border. In that expanse of land, homes sit far apart, scattered buildings in the desert until Promise rises up from the dust.Charlotte “Ottie” Dugan has lived in Promise her entire life, unable to escape the town, caked like dirt under her fingernails. She knows that Promise is dangerous, with the Odinson brothers drug running and rigging elections all the way to San Diego, and the Sons of Fury motorcycle club stirring up trouble — but she never expected to need them. A chance meeting with a man who refused to take no for an answer leaves Ottie hellbent on revenge and turning to the only men who can offer her closure.Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character of Color x Loki Laufeyson - Biker!AU
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Promise, CA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About every six or so months my brain remembers "Sons of Anarchy" and just builds AUs for no reason. This fic grew from an idea for the MCU meets biker/mafia AU and it just snowballed, hard.
> 
> Note on the tags I used: assault will be a large part of the background of this story, as featured in small flashbacks, but I will never graphically describe it in full. My aim for this is simple - this is a revenge fic. Please don't trigger yourself or your mental health!

Promise had one big boom about three decades ago. We got a hospital, a fancy staff from San Diego that wanted to aid a border town, a few updates to the government buildings, and even a couple office buildings towering over everything else in the small downtown area.

In the years since, things slowed, never a pathetic crawl for water in the desert, more a limp, carrying dead-weight that didn’t seem worth it.

I stared up at the shiny office building, out of place among fenced off half-finished construction projects and buildings from the 50s. I knew why I had to be here, even if it was always the last place on anyone’s list to visit. Well, that and Promise’s hospital which was two bandaids short of no supplies with a doctor in the pocket of the man I was about to see.

Pulling my jacket closer, I turned my head away from the wind and walked up to the doors, pulling one open and stepping into the quiet lobby of Odinson Construction.

The girl behind the counter wasn’t much older than me, and as I walked up she raised her head and then paused. “How can I help you?”

 _“Lost out here? You look lost._ ”

I cleared my throat, reading the name tag on her shirt — Sif — and forcing a smile. “I called, I have a business meeting at four. My name is Charlotte Dugan.”

 _His hands were rough and there was so much acid and bile in my throat_.

She looked down at her screen, typed something, then hummed softly. “Use the elevators to the right, sixth floor.”

My hands were shaking as I pressed the button to call the elevator, when it opened, it was empty and I stepped inside, squeezing my hands together, fisting them over and over again as I tried to steady my nerves. The button for floor six mocked me for a second as I stood in the stationary elevator before I finally got the courage to lean forward and stab it with my index finger.

 _“Hey, baby, you’re lost? Come with me_.”

I sucked in a ragged breath, pressing a hand against my face for a second. The elevator smelled like bleach, which didn’t surprise me considering the floor I was riding up to.

_“You should call.” Darcy stared at me, her fingers fidgeting as she held her phone out to me. We’d stopped the bleeding enough — for now._

“Shit.” I shook out my hands again, bouncing up and down on the balls of my feet as I looked around the elevator. The shining metal made thousands of versions of me, mirroring my movements, echoing my anxiety. My curls pulled back tight against my head shuffled enough, a few more strands falling loose.

The elevator dinged once, then the doors slid open.

I stepped out into a smaller waiting area, a single desk in front of two doors that led back into the offices. Behind the desk there was a sign, mounted on the wall — Odinson — the logo was Norse, a heavy-spaced rune spelling of the last name.

I’d heard the father had died last year, in Norway, now most of the business was being run out of Promise.

The secretary looked up at me, her eyes were a little kinder than the one downstairs, and she stood as I approached the desk, shuffling a few papers and picking them up.

“Hi, Ottie right? We spoke on the phone?” She extended me a hand and I shook it, “I’m Jane.”

I realized after a second that she _wasn’t_ a secretary, she was wearing a white coat, _Dr. Foster_ embroidered on the left side of her chest. Why did a construction company need a doctor on the payroll? — everyone dumb enough to ask that question always regretted it.

“Yeah,” I forced a smile, “That’s me.”

Darcy knew Jane when they were kids — something about growing up in the same area of San Diego and working together briefly. The only reason I knew Darcy was because we worked together occasionally, but mostly partied together during time off. This was a favor of all favors to call in.

“Follow me.” Jane smiled, moving out from behind the desk and then pulling open one of the doors to the side. She walked through and I followed her down hallways lined with glass rooms, looking in on offices. Some were occupied, some were barren and empty. I tried not to get lost in the maze, but it felt like everything went on forever until we were taking a set of stairs up and around to the seventh floor — which didn’t even have elevator access.

She opened up the door to an office and waved me in, then told me to wait for a moment while she dropped off the files in her hand.

As the door clicked shut, I exhaled finally, staring at the two shelves of books against the wall, files scattered across the dark wood desktop, and then the examination bed sitting catty-corner to the side.

 _“You should go — to the hospital —_ “ _Darcy fumbled as she helped me sit down on one of the crates stacked outside the bar._

 _“Hell no,” I wiped blood out from under my nose, hands shaking, pulling down my ripped dress. “No._ ”

Three days — just narrowly avoiding the window, I’d showered too, three times, maybe four, I couldn’t remember much of the day after. Darcy stayed with me in the house dad left me, just in case. But it’s not like there would be a second offense, he’d gotten what he wanted and then slid into his shiny car and driven off.

The door opened and Jane stepped in with a soft smile, breathing out as she stared at me.

“Now, I won’t be reporting this, but I’d really like the full story of what happened.”

I sat down in one of her leather guest chairs and pulled a leg up into it with me, wrapping my arms around it. Everything came pouring out of my lips, it was just a normal night at the bar, there was nothing special, and then suddenly there were a lot more men than normally showed up in the shithole just outside of Promise and Darcy and I were talking about leaving. I was just going to get the car and the guy who kept buying me drinks all night was outside and then I was throwing up bile.

She pushed tissues towards me, writing something on a pad of paper.

“And you didn’t want it reported? You didn’t go to Promise Medical Center?”

“No,” I choked on the sob in my throat, staring up at her as I wiped my face, angry, fury in my veins. “No, I didn’t.” I cleared my throat again, raising my chin. “I didn’t want the cops involved.”

Jane made a noise in the back of her throat, but then raised an eyebrow and nodded a little. Understanding laced her words as she put her pen down and looked up at me. “Well, I can see if one of them is free to talk with you right now.”

I stared back at her. “To me?”

Jane stood up, then paused. “Well, normally they wouldn’t, but you are asking for a professional hit. They like to know the details before anything is confirmed and payment is exchanged.”

I was reminded of the weight of the check in my pocket, folded up into thirds, a second mortgage on a house that was already paid off. Jane looked to the door, then back at me.

“Follow me?” It was a question this time.

I stood up and stepped around the chair, nodding as I stepped back into the hall with her. This time the offices were farther apart, we walked the length of the hallway and then Jane stopped, motioning for me to open the door. The room felt like it spanned the length of the building, windows floor to ceiling, looking down on Promise, towering above it like Olympus, Valhalla — Gods.

“Wait here.” She was gone before I could register the words, and I looked around again, staring at the conference table that could have sat twenty people. Turning in a small circle, I wrapped my arms around myself, sliding my hand into my pocket and touching the edge of the check.

The office was quiet and I turned towards the windows to stare out at Promise, hearing the door open at my back. The only sound was muffled footsteps and I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle as I stared outside, swallowing back the panic in my throat as a body moved to stand next to me.

His suit was all black, expertly tailored, clean lines bringing my eyes up until I looked at the side of his face.

His jawline was sharp, black hair cut short. His gaze didn’t waver from the window as he stood with his hands casually in his pockets.

“Promise certainly looks different from this vantage point.” I was struck by how deep his voice was, accented and elegant.

I looked back out the glass. “Yeah.” My response fell short, fingers wrapping around the check in my pocket.

“Jane tells me you have a business idea for my brother and I?”

“An opportunity.”

He licked his lips, in the reflection of the glass I watched him smirk, “Very political response.”

He was watching me in the reflection of the two of us. I raised my chin, a jolt of adrenaline overpowering the fear and anxiety as I stared at him in the glass. “I want him to _suffer_.”

His smile grew, arching an eyebrow. “Forgive me, but Jane didn’t tell me _why_ you were putting a hit on someone in Promise. Or who it was.”

“She doesn’t even know who.”

 _Smooth skin, a wicked grin, sharp, square features — Darcy warned me all night that he looked familiar_.

I turned my head, staring at him as my lips parted. “I think you know him, everyone kept calling him “Thanos.”” Something changed in the man’s expression next to me, and he finally turned partially to stare down at me, lips pressed together.

“Get out.”

“What?” I stared up at him, my fingers crushing the check in my pocket as my mouth opened.

He turned and looked back at the glass. “Get out.”

I sucked in a ragged breath, staring at the only hope I had for an _ounce_ of justice. “No.” I let go of the check, taking a step back and staring at his back. I wasn’t sure if this brother was Thor or Loki, but they were the only ones in the entire area who had enough power.

“I need your help.” My voice broke, pleading seeping into my words. “No one else —“

He cut me off, eyes cutting to me, harsh and stark green. “Whatever he did isn’t worth my neck.”

My jaw dropped. I dug the check out of my pocket and threw it at him. “Guess I did this for nothing.”

He didn’t bother himself to try to catch the crumpled piece of paper. His eyes followed it as it fell quietly to the floor, flickering back to look up at me. “There is _nothing_ worth getting involved with the Thanos family, do you hear me?”

I set my jaw, glaring at him. “Fuck you,” spitting the words, I felt the anxiety wrap itself around my throat, my hands shaking. “He _assaulted_ me. He— He—“ I couldn’t get the words out, my upper lip trembling as I turned and sucked in a breath. “Forget it.”

Clearing my throat, I stooped down and grabbed the check, pulling my jacket closer as I turned and walked towards the door.

“Wait, one moment.”

I hesitated at the door, breathing hard. When I turned, his back was to the windows and he was staring at me, lips slightly parted as he nodded his head once, a smooth motion.

“This is more than a hit.”

I crushed the check in my fist, sucking in another breath. “Do I need more money?”

He shook his head. “Your payment isn’t good.” He set his jaw, haloed by the setting sun outside. I felt everything in my stomach threaten to come back up. This was a stupid favor to ask, this was a waste of Darcy’s friendship to even get me in the door.

The brother walked forward until it was only a few steps that separated us.

He extended me a hand, a devilish grin on his face. “I believe this is considered a personal interest now. It’s lovely to meet you, I’m Loki.”

I looked down at his hand, then back up at him, lips pressed together as I took his hand and shook it. “Ottie.”

Loki smiled, “Much to do, Ottie. It’s nice to make business plans with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter lengths will vary, normally I'm a long winded bitch who likes 4k to 6k length chapters, but I'm going to try to keep it manageable. Buckle up!


	2. Sons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been four days - Ottie has to go back to work, but of course it can't be a painless Monday.

_His hard hands were unrelenting and I closed my eyes, swallowing acid on my tongue, praying to any god that would listen that it would end soon_.

I jolted awake with a scream dying in the depths of my throat, clutching at my sheets around me, sweat-soaked pajamas clinging to my clammy skin. I pressed my hands against the sheets, breathing hard as I turned to look at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It ticked over to six and the default alarm began to ring.

I threw my hand on top of it and debated on breaking it against the wall.

Only four days ago had I been ready for a good drink and a good weekend.

Now I had a verbal agreement with a mob boss.

Dropping back down to the bed, I ran my fingers over my head wrap, keeping my curls in place as I slept, but a few had slipped out of the silk, scattering around my forehead. Dad’s red hair was slightly visible in my auburn, but I got the texture all from mom — thank God too.

Pulling the wrap off my hair, I leaned back up in bed and stared at the wall, willing myself to stand. It took some convincing, but I stumbled to the bathroom, the urge to pee too great to stay under the warm blankets. I moved through the motions, arranging my hair into something “acceptable” for the workplace, slathering on makeup, and then jumping and wiggling my hips into a pair of slacks.

I was the only mixed girl at work, the shitty town government building was just next to the Odinson office building. It wasn’t hard to be the only mixed person in Promise, it was a small town, people tended to talk, not that ever cared before he died.

Pulling a blazer on, I turned and stared out the windows, surveying my car outside before pulling my coffee mug out from under my pot, slapping the lid on top and carrying my bag outside. A shot of adrenaline went up my spine, my eyes flickering around the quiet homes on the street, looking at the cars parked along the road on both sides and the ones left out in driveways. Not a single one was any kind of new model, but that didn’t mean that no one was lurking.

I jerked the door to my car open and got in, checking the backseat as my fingers pressed the locks.

Empty.

Clearing my throat, I pushed my coffee mug into the center console and double-checked before pulling out of my driveway. The entire commute to Promise’s small downtown barely took twenty minutes — and normally I savored it, but the hair on the back of my neck was standing straight up, pin-pricks along my arms.

When I pulled into the lot next to the city council building, I pressed my hands against the wheel of my car, staring at the lot across the street where everyone parked for Odinson Construction. There were only a few cars scattered around, and I watched and waited until 8 am sharp to walk into my work, following the secretary into my own building.

My skin was crawling as I walked to my desk. Every step felt like someone was looking at me, seeing past my clothes, under my skin. The shreds of the check addressed to _Odinson Construction LLC_ was buried in the bottom of my kitchen trashcan.

I sat down and stared at my computer, spreading the papers out for the proposed county commission plans. It was my job to go over them and prep everything for a town hall meeting at the end of the month.

Sliding headphones in, I stared at my computer until my eyes crossed, then stood up and did a circle around the office before coming back to sit. I couldn’t fathom lunch, so I worked through it, waving off a co-worker who asked if I was going out.

My mind started to wander towards the end of the day. Darcy and I had met when she first moved to Promise, following the footsteps of her friend Jane — they had apparently met in school in San Diego, friends for life, colleagues now, though Darcy’s environmental science degree often sent her traveling more often than she’d like. It was rarer now that we even got a chance to go out together to the shitty bar just outside of Promise, and now I’d probably never return.

I stared at my computer, eyes burning as I sucked in a breath. The time said it was already creeping towards five, the outside light fading. A pang of fear flashed through me, I suddenly didn’t want to walk to the parking lot alone.

Pushing up from my seat, I saved my work and stepped past an empty desk — meant for an intern that we hadn’t had in two years — and stuck my head into my boss’s office.

“Hey,” I caught his attention, hand on the doorframe. “I just remembered I need to pick up something from the pharmacy before it closes, you care if I go early?”

He waved me off and went back to his computer screen.

I grabbed my bag in a rush, fumbling to find my keys as I walked back towards the front of the building. As I pulled my keys from my purse, I felt my phone in my jacket pocket vibrate. Rubbing my nose, I pushed the doors open with a hip and fished my phone out, stopping short to look out at the parking lot. My boss’s car was still in his spot, along with a couple of the other workers’ vehicles. Mine was exactly where I had left it a few hours ago, and from this vantage point, I could see that there was absolutely nothing underneath it.

Letting out a breath, I glanced down at my phone and stepped down onto the pavement.

A second text from Darcy came through as I walked towards my car, reading them both and then texting her back that I was doing fine — as fine as I could be. As I climbed into my car, I pulled the door shut and rubbed my hand over my face, debating with myself before I added a thanks for connecting me with Jane.

Darcy texted back a smiling emoji and then a thumbs up with a knife emoji. I laughed and threw my phone into the passenger seat.

Wrapping my hand around the gear shift, I checked my mirrors twice, hesitating when I saw a shiny black SUV turn onto the street. It pulled up in front of the Odinson offices and a man got out of the front seat and then opened the back.

A man with blond hair pulled back into a tight bun on his head got out, his suit tight across his broad shoulders. I watched as he laughed at the driver and then jogged up the couple steps to walk into the offices. Letting out a breath, I shook my head and then pulled out of the lot.

Everything was okay, the radio was playing a decent song for once, then suddenly the lights on my dash began to light up, one by one. I felt my car slow, then pulled it off onto the side of the road, panic shooting through my veins as I stared at the flashing light that something was wrong with my tire pressure and coolant.

My hands shook as I reached over for my phone, wrapping my fingers around it in the passenger seat as I looked up, surveying the stretch of road around me. Most of it was boarded-up storefronts that couldn’t keep anyone in them, a second-hand store that already had their closed sign turned in the window was barely visible at the end of the road.

Swallowing back bile in my throat, I looked around carefully, checking behind my car, but there was no one on the road. I opened my phone up quickly and scrolled down until I found the information at the end of my contacts.

 _“Shh, don’t scream_.”

My head jerked up, watching a piece of trash blow across the road. My finger hovered over the number of the only tow place within miles of Promise.

There was a fumble at the other end of the phone, then a cheerful voice answered. “Rogers-Stark Autoshop, how can I help you?”

I cleared my throat, unable to get the shaking fear out of my voice. “I need a tow, I’m on Magnolia and my car just… stopped.” I stared at the dash. “Every light came on.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good.” The guy chuckled to himself and I heard the phone shift again. “Uh, yeah actually we got some guys out, can pick it up. How’s twenty minutes sound?”

My blood ran cold at the thought of what could happen in twenty minutes and at my silence, the guy on the other end of the line hesitated. “Is twenty good, miss?”

I sucked in a breath, double-checking my doors and then pulling my key out of the ignition, sliding keys between my fingers as I pulled my legs up into the seat. “Yeah,” I cleared my throat again. “Twenties’ fine.”

He rambled off something else, then said that there would be a couple of guys coming out to meet me in one of the Rogers-Stark tow trucks as soon as they got out of the shop’s lot. I thanked him quietly and hung up, staring out my window.As apprehensive of walking into the Odinson building that I had been just yesterday, it was even harder to call Rogers-Stark.

Everything that the Odinsons were — organized crime hidden with slick suits, money exchanged between adorned hands, and whispers in susceptible ears, the Sons of Fury lacked.

One of the last things mom told me before she passed was that I wasn’t to call them, that I should move out of Promise as soon as I could and never look back.

The Sons had a big reputation, perhaps even bigger than the Odinsons. Where the Odinsons had grace and secrecy, the Sons didn’t care. Their motorcycles ripped through the streets at whatever hour they liked, motorcycle jackets heavy with a patch that spanned across each rider’s back.

They had long ties to Promise, too many people knew that they weren’t just a “motorcycle club” or a bunch of guys who worked at the auto shop.

I rubbed the back of my neck, the setting sun making my stomach churn as I checked the streets again. It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes, but my skin was crawling. Not a single car had passed, which wasn’t unusual for Promise, but it made me feel like a sitting duck, waiting to get shot.

The sound of an engine broke through the silence, audible in the distance as I swiveled in my seat to watch as a dirty white tow truck came around the corner. Ease flooded my body as I grabbed my purse, waiting until the truck pulled up just in front of my car. I could see two men in the cab when it passed me, and both got out as I pushed my door open and stepped out into the cool California night.

“Hey,” one of them nodded at me, a glance ghosting over me before landing on my car. “What’s up?”

“Uh,” I swallowed, glad to let my keys fall out from between my fingers. “Every light came on, I don’t know what happened. I drove it out from work and it just… died on me.”

The other guy glanced at his friend, both of them had variants of the Sons jackets on, but the white guy had the sleeves removed from his cut, exposing the t-shirt he had on. It was greasy and he didn’t seem to care as he huffed and dropped down to the pavement to look under my car.

“Well,” He called out, voice slightly muffled, “Found the issue, Rhodey.”

I glanced over to the guy who had moved closer to me, he was rubbing his face. “Yeah, and Barton?”

“Well,” The white guy rolled out and then pushed himself back to his feet with a bounce to his step, turning his attention to me. “Your whole car’s been slashed underneath.”

“What?” I stepped forward, staring at my car, then hesitating as my stomach knotted up. “What —“

The guy, Barton, held up his hands, “Hell if I know, you run over anything?”

“No,” I answered him quietly, staring at my car. Of course, nothing was under there when I left work, but it had sat for hours, just in the lot, no one watching it. Promise didn’t have enough funding to have security cameras pointed anywhere but on the front door going into the government building, there was no way to know who had parked in the lot earlier and crawled under my car.

The guy named Rhodey rubbed his hands together and nodded. “Well, we can at least tow you back to the shop, if you don’t mind riding in the cab with us?”

I glanced at the tow truck, the Rogers-Stark logo on the side a combination of a shield with a wrench overtop it. Wrapping my arms around myself, I shrugged and looked over at him. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

Barton chuckled, “I’ll get you hooked up.”

I stepped to the side as I let Rhodey get into the tow and back it up enough so Barton could hook the chain to the undercarriage of my car. Swallowing hard, I held my phone tightly in my hand, watching as my car was cranked up to the back of the tow, leaving only the back two wheels on the pavement. Rhodey stuck his head out of the truck and smiled at me.

“Ready to go?”

I was trapped between both of them, sitting in the middle of the bench at the front of the truck, my purse in my lap as I stared out the front window. To my right, Barton popped a mint into his mouth and then held the container out to me.

I shook my head, clearing my throat and pulling my purse closer.

Rhodey chuckled next to me, rubbing the back of his neck as he checked his mirrors. “Banner didn’t tell us who we were picking up, you from around here?”

“Born and raised.” I hesitated as I glanced over at him, then licked my lips. “I’m Ottie, uh, Charlotte, but no one calls me that.”

“Nice to meet you.” Barton smiled, resting his elbow on the rolled down window next to him. As he bent, my eyes flickered down, the piece at his side sending a shiver up my spine.

I was either safer than I had been in days, or in more danger than I could fathom.

Rhodey followed my gaze and clicked his tongue at Barton. The other man adjusted again, the gun hidden by his cut as he offered me a slightly awkward smile. The rest of the ride was silent, save for the radio station that I recognized as grainy 80s hits.

We pulled up to the Rogers-Stark gate, easing through it and I glanced back at my car, seeing a stream of liquid behind us. I wondered if it had been leaking when I left work and I just hadn’t noticed.

When Rhodey parked, he got out and offered me a hand. I wrapped my hand around his, jumping out from the high truck cab and landing on the dirt, a puff of it coming up around my feet as I raised my head to look at the auto shop. I’d only driven past a few times, it was a little out of the way, on the edges of Promise’s town limits.

The building itself wasn’t old, just showed all the signs of wear. There were two clear extensions to it, one that looked like it came out from the original office and car shop, and then another that seemed like it was added to give the whole place even more space, bumping up to the back of the fencing at the far end of the property.

Just by the gate at the front was a small building, garage doors spanning one side, but it was too deep to only hold cars.

“Office is that way.” I turned sharply, following Barton’s finger to the small building to the side of three open garage doors. Through two of them, I could see cars suspended, men working under them.

“Thanks,” clearing my throat, I pulled my purse up on my shoulder, walking slowly across the dirt and gravel towards the office. I passed a line of bikes, all parked with stands in a row, backed up to a little fence where they could tear out of the auto shop lot immediately. The two at the front of the line, closest to the office caught my eyes. One was a metallic red, the other a shiny navy.

A smaller guy looked up from inside the garage, he stumbled a half step and then nearly dropped a wrench. Whoever was under the car he was working on made a noise and shouted, “Kid! Jesus Christ.”

“Sorry,” the guy rushed to apologize, grinning at me and then turning around to focus on his work.

I laughed a little, my chest fluttering when I realized it was the first time I’d smiled in days.

A small bell over the door to the office jingled as I pulled it open and stepped in. An old window air condition unit was whirring and clanking. The guy behind the desk slammed his fist against it and it started to blow stagnant air again. He looked up at me with a smile, laughing and running a hand through his black hair. “Sorry about that, should really get, uh, someone to fix it.”

I smiled slightly, recognizing his voice from the phone. Gesturing to the windows behind him, I watched as they let my car down from the tow. “I called, uh, they picked me up and…” I trailed off, raising a hand to my forehead and frowning. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“We’ll figure it out.” The guy assured me, shrugging his shoulders. The garage button-up he had on had a tiny patch on the right breast.

“Thanks, Bruce.” I glanced around the office, there were piles of paper sitting on the desk and on top of two metal file organizers.

He made a sound of approval and then pushed back in the little rolling desk chair he was perched in. Opening a mini-fridge behind him, he glanced back at me, smiling, “Soda?”

My stomach grumbled, reminding me I had skipped eating so far today, the coffee from this morning long gone. I hesitated a smile at him, “Water is fine —“

“ _Jesus Christ_ , what the hell happened?” A shout from the garage made both of us turn towards the little window that looked out into the garage. My car had made its way to the only empty spot and a guy shoved himself out from under it, pushing up from a roller and staring at Barton and Rhodey. “It’s sliced open like a damn pig.”

I glanced back at Bruce and then hesitated. “Hold that thought.”

Sucking it up, I pushed the door back open and stepped out of the office to stand just inside the garage. Rhodey looked up first, eyebrow raised as I pulled my blazer closer, face twisting.

“That’s mine.”

The guy who had been under my car pushed himself up and I saw a peak of metal as his grease-covered tank slid down his chest. He blinked up at me, raising an eyebrow. “What did you do, run over Wolverine?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, glancing at my car then back at him. “I went into work and it was fine and when I came out it was like that.”

The guy brushed his hands off and then pushed to stand. Even though he was shorter than the rest of them, he had a level and air of power to him. I shuffled between my two feet for a moment, trying not to glance away from his gaze.

He clicked his tongue, wiping his hands off on a rag as he stared at me. “You wanna tell me what really happened?”

“Excuse me?” I snapped my attention back to him, arching an eyebrow. “I _told_ you.” Taking a step forward, I raised my chin, staring at him. “I went into work and when I got out everything was fine until my dash lit up like a fucking disco ball.”

The garage was silent as the man and I stared each other down.

“Well, someone cut every mechanical part they could get their hands on.” He dropped the dirty rag onto a table, crossing his arms. “Can’t imagine that you’ve pissed anyone off lately.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the tone or the way my last four days had gone but I threw my purse to the ground with a bang, taking another step forward. “Listen, I’ve had it up to fucking _here_ with men lately.” Sucking in a ragged breath, I stared him down, not caring about the guns on hips or the multitude of weapons scattered around the two of us. My voice broke as I spat the words at him. “Can you fix my car or not?”

Everyone was extremely quiet, I could have heard a pin drop on the cracked concrete floor.

The man in front of me smiled, then turned his head and looked at the others. “I think we can arrange something.”

“Good,” I backed off, swallowing as I flexed my fingers. My knuckles were aching from how much I kept fisting my hands, half-moon indentations in my palms as I grabbed my purse from the floor.

My heart hammered in my chest, aware of eyes on me as I turned to go back into the office. Out of all of them, Bruce seemed the nicest, and I was fairly certain if I didn’t drink something I was going to throw up again.

“You sure you didn’t piss anyone off though?”

The question caught me off guard and I paused, swallowing back the acid in my throat and I turned to look over my shoulder.

I didn’t make enemies, there was really only one person who could have thought to open up my car and make it useless in the span of a few miles. But there was no way that anyone knew other than Jane and the Odinsons. A shiver crept up my spine — no, I _knew_ that the Odinsons weren’t on a good basis with any other organized crime group. They had everyone in their pockets, this was _their_ territory.

At my hesitation, the guy raised an eyebrow.

My eyes flickered over the garage. The car behind mine had two people working on it and both of them were watching the conversation, one was a woman with fire red hair, the other a blond man. He looked more interested than the woman.

I turned my attention back to the other man, my tongue heavy. “My name is Ottie if that answers your question.”

The guy turned his head and caught the eyes of the blond. Suddenly he was standing and I could see the creased name on his button-up — Rogers.

Oh fuck.

The guy in front of me reached over and grabbed his button-up, shrugging it over his shoulders — Stark — then he turned his attention back to me and nodded towards a door that lead into the building _behind_ the office and garage.

“Why don’t you join us for a drink?”

I tried to process the idea of whipping my phone out and dialing the number for Jane — I didn’t have any contact info for the Odinsons directly. I could have just completely screwed myself over, but at the same time, as I stepped into the back part of the building, I realized they were inviting me into an area that _normal_ customers probably didn’t see.

The walls were paneled with dark wood, almost black. There were frames, what felt like a hundred different styles, ranging from photos to patches to a huge frame with a leather jacket framed. Along one wall was a bar, where a guy stopped mid-wiping it down.

“Sam, get the lady a drink.” The blond guy walked past me, turning the sink behind the bar on and washing his hands.

The guy behind the bar, Sam, looked up at me. “What’s your poison?”

I glanced around, my voice wavering. “Water, so I don’t throw up.”

Sam shrugged, reaching into a fridge and then sliding a water bottle across the bar. I caught it, fingers wrapping around it as I turned to watch Stark walk to a table and pull two chairs out. He patted one and smiled at me.

I carried my water over to the table and sat down carefully, cracking the top and unscrewing it. With shaky hands, I took a long drink and then looked across the table as both men sat down. Sam excused himself and shut the door that went to the garage.

“Funniest thing,” Stark stated, looking over at Rogers, “Just got a call this morning about a meeting, something from a man — you probably don’t know him —“ He looked over at Rogers and shrugged again, “— she definitely doesn’t know him —“ He licked his lips, “Name was… Loki.”

I squeezed the water bottle between my two hands, the cold condensation the only thing keeping me grounded.

“What Tony is dancing around,” Rogers cleared his throat, “is that the Sons were just hired to… help, with a hit job. Which are pretty rare in Promise.” His blue eyes felt like they were burning a hole in me. “The details were vague, but we do know it’s personal.”

I swallowed, looking down at the water bottle, unable to keep both their gazes. “Yeah, that’s me,” I pulled my hands off the water, wringing them together and then wiping the water off on my slacks.

The table was quiet and when I glanced back up it seemed like the two men were having a silent conversation with just glances back and forth. Finally, Tony spoke again.

“Thanos is a pretty heavy hit. Wouldn’t you agree, Steve?”

Steve nodded, pressing his lips together. “It’s a request.”

I rubbed my hands together, nervously pressing my fingertips against each other, then fidgeting in the seat. Why hadn’t the Odinsons just told the Sons what the point of the hit was? I _knew_ it was heavy, the whole fucking _experience_ was heavy.

This time my voice shook harder, but I could get the word out, unlike in front of Loki. “He raped me.”

The bar was silent, the two men in front of me didn’t pull their eyes from my face as I raised my chin.

“That’s why I put the hit out.”

Tony’s face twisted and Steve cleared his throat as he looked away, nodding slowly.

The sudden realization settled onto my shoulders, the head of a mob, two heads of a biker gang, as many guns and hands I could ask for, suddenly in my lap — all the revenge I wanted in capable hands.

“Why don’t you finish your water in here and we’ll get someone to take you home.” Steve looked back at me, his face was smooth, but there was something behind his eyes, a pain I couldn’t decipher. “You okay with that — Ottie, right?”

I nodded slowly, reaching out for the water bottle again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of many Sons of Fury introductions!! I'll be incorporating more familiar faces in soon, including everyone's (other) favorite greasy boi. I've also roughly planned out this fic and updated the chapters to reflect this, but everything is subject to change.
> 
> Also, Happy New Year. :)


	3. Shards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ottie gets more acquainted with the Sons of Fury, she meets the final member, Bucky Barnes. She also realizes she severely underestimated the danger she was in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of blood, perilous situations, death of an animal

The empty water bottle made a sad thunk in the trash can as I threw it away. The bar area was entirely empty, dead quiet too, except for the sounds of faint music coming in from the garage and light conversation. I was almost certain that _I_ was the topic, but I also didn’t want to eavesdrop to confirm it.

So instead, I stood in front of the wall of photos.

Steve and Tony — very plain names for two gunrunners — had stepped out, one to take a look at my car and assess the real damage, and the other to find someone who could take me home. I wasn’t exactly in a rush to make it back to the empty house though, and I told them as much.

There was a range of photos, from a tiny one that had all its colors blown out of a man and two women standing in military uniforms, to another of a man who looked eerily similar to Tony, riding a red bike. The framed jacket was frayed along the edges, well worn, with the patch slightly falling off even in the frame. Along the back _Sons of Fury_ was embroidered on a patch that wrapped around the top of the actual emblem itself. The Rogers-Stark emblem was different than the Sons one — the Sons’ emblem looked like a fighter jet of some kind.

One of the doors behind me opened and I turned partially to watch as the guy from before, Sam, walked back in. He paused, glancing at me in front of the photos and then looking behind the bar.

“What’s up?”

I glanced back at the photos and then laughed lightly, “Uh, waiting for someone to tell me my car is basically irreparable.”

“Bad day?” He stepped out from around the bar, walking towards me. His cut was a full jacket instead of the vest that Barton wore. I was starting to notice the variations all of them had. There was even a small patch at the front — Wilson.

I sighed and wrapped my arms tighter around myself. “You could say that. Bad life.”

Sam slowed to a stop next to me and looked up at the wall, then glanced over at me. “It’ll get better, or it won’t. It all depends on what you do with it.”

I paused, staring at my reflection in the glass of one of the frames. The words were stupidly simple, but I swallowed back the sudden feeling of gratefulness.

_“Oh my God, oh my God — Ottie?” Darcy’s frantic voice brought me back, softer hands on my face, trying to wake me up enough. “Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay?_ ”

Looking over at Sam, I smiled softly. “Well, I’m planning a murder, that seems to be helping.”

He shrugged. “Whatever works.”

I enjoyed the blasé way he said it, the slight movement of his shoulders. Then the conversation was over, as easy and simple as that. Nothing seemed to bother him as he pointed out the photos — the original members of the Sons, now on the east coast — a guy named Fury, next to his two friends from the Air Force, Danvers and Rambeau.

The jacket was Tony’s father’s, faded and hung for everyone to see. Sam told me it had been there since Howard Stark had died.

I pointed at a photo that seemed way more recent, recognizing a few faces in it. “And this one?”

“Oh.” Sam grinned, “That’s all of us.” He stuck a finger out, pressing it against the glass on every face, “Tony, Steve, Nat, Clint — actually that’s when Bruce was still riding — uh,” He glanced over the photo again, “Oh yeah, there’s Rhodey and Bucky. Peter’s a prospect, he’s not in any of these.”

I tried to match the names to the faces I knew. The red-haired woman was Nat, I hadn’t met her face to face, or the man with his long hair pulled back into a bun, standing with an arm slung around Steve, Sam was next to them in the photo, all three of them laughing.

I could clearly see the friendships in the photo, but the entire thing, bikes and all seemed like a family portrait. Loosening my grip on myself, I turned to look up at Sam and smiled slightly. “I’m guessing Peter’s the one who was in the garage earlier? With Tony?”

Sam nodded, making a face, “Kid’s so young.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was fairly certain I recognized Peter. I was actually almost positive that we had graduated together, making him no older than twenty-four or twenty-five, the line I was walking.

The sound of the music from the garage suddenly got louder and from behind us, someone cleared their throat. Sam and I both turned to see Rhodey standing half in the bar and half in the garage.

“Hey, you wanna come out here?”

I gave Sam a little half-wave and then grabbed my bag, walking over to the garage door and catching it as Rhodey pushed it open. Stepping back out into the garage, I glanced over at my car, propped up with Tony’s legs just visible under it.

Grimacing, I dropped my bag again and then crouched down, peaking under at him.

“How bad is it?”

Tony lifted his head slightly, one eyebrow raised, “We’re riding the line of you just needing a new vehicle, kid.”

“Oh fuck.” I groaned and stood back up, pressing my hand against my forehead. Just another thing to add to my already shitty week. Rubbing my forehead, I spun in a little circle, looking around the garage before grimacing even more. “It’s not even drivable?”

“Sure, we’ll pick you up in about three miles — if you make it that far.” The red-haired woman snorted from the corner — Nat.

I laughed, “Great, okay, I’ll add you to my speed dial.”

From the doorway to the office, there was a short laugh. When I glanced over, it was Peter. He hesitated for a moment, then pointed at me. “Wait —“

I shook my head, smiling at him. “Hi, Peter.”

“It _is_ you! Ottie!” He did a little jump to get off the slight step into the office, crossing the garage in no time before wrapping me up in a hug. When I tensed, he let me go immediately and stepped back, laughing awkwardly. “Shit, sorry, I just haven’t seen you since high school, you were on —“

“Track.” I finished for him, feeling the stares of everyone. “And you were on the bench.”

“Yeah…” Peter trailed off, a fond smile on his face. “Hey, did you know MJ and I moved in together?”

“No,” I admitted with a little laugh. “Congratulations.”

Tony rolled out from under my car finally, sitting up as Steve came walking in from the dark outside. He was wearing his cut, a dark brown leather jacket against everyone else’s blacks. I wondered what the difference was for, and then my eyes flitted to the man emerging from the night behind him.

He was tall, easily one of the tallest ones in the entire club, long brown hair pulled back off his face save for a few strands that seemed to have fallen out. The red henley he had on was just slightly peeking out from under his brown jacket, just as well-worn as Steve’s.

The guy raised his head, a little oil on the collar of his shirt and stubble along his jaw. Our eyes met and I felt a little thrill shoot through my stomach, a mixture of fear and something else.

The garage was silent except for the shitty 80s pop music on the portable radio.

Steve paused just inside. First, he looked at me, then followed my gaze back, turning his head slightly to look at the other man. When he looked back at me, he looked just a _hair_ amused. “Buck’s gonna take you home, if you’re good with that, Ottie.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, dragging my attention away from the final member of the Sons and staring at Steve. “Thank you, do you… do you think I need to call the Odinsons?”

I caught Barton’s confused and concerned look from the corner just as Tony wiped his hands off and patted me awkwardly on the shoulder. “Go home, kid, we’ll talk to the club _and_ the Odinsons. You’ve had a rough enough day.”

“Right,” I said the word softly, watching as Tony walked towards the office. “Thank you, by the way, for the help.”

He paused and looked back at me, shrugging it off. “You can thank me after I rebuild your entire undercarriage.”

I laughed, looking down at the concrete before glancing back up. Bucky was still staring at me, and I picked my bag back up and stepped forward. He shifted slightly and I thought I saw a glove on one hand, but when he turned to look at Steve and mutter something under his breath, I realized it was metal. He had a prosthetic.

Steve glanced up at me as I slowed to a stop in front of them. From this close, I could tell that Bucky’s hand was metal, disappearing under his sleeve. My eyes flickered back up to Bucky’s face and he turned and looked at me, arching an eyebrow.

“You ever ridden a motorcycle before?”

“I can learn.”

Bucky smiled, it lifting half his face as he nudged Steve’s shoulder. “See you in a bit, Cap.”

It took every ounce of my self-control to keep my face composed as I left the garage and followed him over to the long row of bikes. Bucky swung his leg over a black one and walked it out from the row, sliding a helmet on that covered everything but his eyes, turning his head to throw a spare one in my direction. I nearly fumbled, but caught it at the last second, sliding it over my head and then walking over to the bike.

“It won’t bite.” His voice was deep, glancing at me over his shoulder. “Where d’you live?”

I straddled the bike, settling into the space in the seat behind him, my hands hesitating before I wrapped them around his waist carefully. He grunted slightly and then dropped a hand to adjust my arms around him, pulling me flush against his back before returning his hand to the handlebars.

With the side of my face and the helmet pressed against his back, I let out a little breath and rattled off my address. He hesitated for half a second before kicking his foot and cranking the bike, the motor purring to life under us both.

It felt a little like instinct and a lot like intuition that I could relax just enough to enjoy myself as I held onto him. Like the rest of the Sons, a small part of me knew that they were more dangerous than I was used to — but I’d already been through the worst, what could they do that I hadn’t already had to deal with?

And, honestly, Peter didn’t really strike me as the type to hurt a fly, so that helped color my inability to see any of them as too dangerous.

Bucky turned a corner and I leaned into him, gasping a little as my hands tightened on his henley, fisting the fabric in my fingers tightly. I could feel him chuckle, his back against my chest. There wasn’t exactly a point in shouting at him to keep a conversation, so I stayed quiet the entire drive from the auto shop to my house.

As we turned the corner again, Bucky slowed slightly, weaving the bike around cars. I turned my head, scanning the vehicles slowly — most of them were where I had left them this morning, save for a few neighbors I knew commuted to work.

Bucky parked the motorcycle in my driveway and I peeled myself off his back, pulling the helmet off and throwing my leg off. I stumbled to catch my footing again, staring at him as he casually leaned back in the seat.

He lifted his helmet off, his hair falling out of the bun, mashed from the helmet. “You live alone?”

I nodded, holding the helmet out to him.

He shook his head. “Keep it.” I watched as he looked around the street. “Someone will come pick you up tomorrow unless you have a friend to take you to work.”

Darcy popped into my head, but then I remembered she was back in San Diego for another work trip. “No, she’s out of town for work.”

He sighed and looked up at me, “Okay, you got the shop number? I’m sure Bruce will call as soon as we know what the fuck we can do to fix your car.” I watched as Bucky’s eyes flickered down again, I wasn’t sure if he was sizing me up or taking me in, but when his gaze reached my face again, he didn’t seem to be embarrassed about looking me over.

“Yeah,” I cleared my throat, holding my phone in my hand. “I have the number for the office.”

“Oh, no one’s gonna answer that before nine.” Bucky shifted and stuck his hand into his pocket. He tugged out a crappy cellphone and opened it. Before I could comprehend it, he was rattling off a number.

I rushed to add it into my phone, glancing up at him.

“It's mine.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket, resting his left hand on the front of the bike. “Call me in the morning, I’ll drive you to work.”

“Thank you.” I took a step back towards my house and glanced back at him. “Can you do something for me?”

Bucky followed me with his eyes, pausing.

“Can you make sure no one is on the street before you go?”

His gaze softened, a line appearing between his brows before he nodded once. “Go inside, you’re safe.”

I locked the door behind me as soon as I stepped inside. From the window, I could see Bucky lingering in the driveway. He held his helmet loosely, then looked over at me and raised his hand. Sliding the helmet back on, he kicked the motorcycle and pushed back off into the street.

I heard the motor circle the block _five_ times before I finally watched him disappear the last time.

With a little sigh, I leaned against my kitchen counters, staring out the windows in the darkness. Turning, I make myself a sandwich with one hand and filled up a little bowl with cat food in the other, moving between the two. As I took a bite of the sandwich, I pushed the back door open and shook the small bowl of food. There were strays all over, but I kept seeing a pregnant one wandering around.

Locking the door behind me, I finished my sandwich and wandered into the bedroom to get ready for bed. As I was tugging my hair up loosely into the silk wrap, I turned to glance out the gauzy curtains in the bedroom and stopped short.

There was a car idling across the street, sleek and black.

I pulled the curtains tight and turned the lights off, my heart racing as I stared outside. The door to my neighbor’s house opened and the guy who lived there — Mark — raised his hand in a wave. The car cut off and another guy got out, walking up to embrace my neighbor in a half hug.

Sucking in a ragged breath, I pulled back from the window and then slid into bed, curling up under a rough quilt. Somewhere, on one end of it, there were two sets of initials stitched into it, _D.D._ and _A.D._

I missed the sound of bacon in the kitchen, the smell of breakfast on school days, but that was years ago when Mom was still healthy. There was a photo of the three of us, on one of the rare moments Dad was actually home from the service.

Looking down at my phone, I sighed and rubbed my forehead, trying to let the day off my shoulders, but they felt heavy, and I felt tense. I rolled over and buried my head in one of the pillows, nauseous at the thought of someone watching me and manipulating my car while I was at work.

At some point, I must have fallen asleep because the sound of a little bang startled me up. Blearily I glanced at my phone, just shy of four in the morning. Pushing up in bed, I looked towards the curtains, seeing a shadow moving somewhere around the front side of the house.

I bolted up from the bed and landed on the floor, pressing my back against the side of the bed as I breathed hard, too scared to peak around the side and out of my hiding spot. There was another crash, and then the metal frame of the back door creaked hard. Through the jolt of adrenaline, I realized someone was fighting against keeping it open as they tried to open the back door.

Grasping at my phone, I unlocked it again. I didn’t know who else to call — what else to do. Panic was making my movements clumsy as I misdialed the auto shop first, listening to it ring and ring to no one picking up. I hung up, snapping my mouth shut and trying not to breathe as I heard a creak again and the sound of the doorknob rattling harder.

I pushed up from where I was hidden, glancing over at the window before crawling over to the open door to the bedroom and easing it shut. None of the doors had locks, but I tugged a chair from the corner over and propped it in front of the door.

Returning back to the side of the bed that was hidden, I curled up, holding my phone tightly and pressing Bucky’s name.

It rang, then again, then again. There was a louder crash and I jumped, curling up into a tighter ball with my back against the nightstand and bed. The floorboards creaked somewhere near the kitchen and I nearly let out a sob of relief as the line picked up.

“Hello?” His voice was groggy, laced with sleep.

I gasped into the phone, my heart racing. “Someone is in my house. Someone just broke in.”

“Who —“ There was a beat, silence, then there was a fumble and Bucky said something to someone, the speaker muffled on my end. When he came back, he sounded wide awake. “We’re on our way.”

I was too big to fit under the low bed frame, but the creaking was getting closer. A pang of white-hot fear shot through me and I scuttled backward across the hardwood towards the master bathroom, pleading into the phone. “Please stay on the line, oh my God.”

The doorknob rattled just as I reached the bathroom. I stood up and shot inside before whoever it was began their fight with the chair against the door. Slamming the bathroom door shut, I looked around frantic, holding the phone down against my hip and hearing a voice.

When I lifted it back up, Bucky was talking, “— Safe. Jesus Christ, are you okay?”

“I’m in the bathroom.” I hissed into the receiver, grabbing a clothes hamper and shoving it against the door before climbing into the shower. There was a thin window just above where the tiling stopped and I reached up, hitting the clasp to unlock it. “I don’t think they’re in the bedroom yet I’m trying to get out of the window.”

“ _Christ_ ,” Bucky said something else, but he must have pulled his phone away. I heard the roar of motors through the speaker and glanced around the bathroom again. There wasn’t much that I could stand on, but I grabbed a couple of spare rolls of Toilet paper and tried, crushing them in the process. There was no way I could lift myself out of the window.

There was a loud crash and I covered my mouth with my hand, looking around the bathroom frantically for something, anything to protect myself with.

It was empty, save for a toilet brush, I had nothing. I wrapped the towel I had hanging on a hook around my arm and then slammed my full weight against the window, shattering the glass. It fell in shards into the tub around my bare feet and then scattered outside.

Pushing the towel against the broken window, I tried heaving myself up, slipping and falling back onto the glass in the tub, choking back a little scream as pieces embedded themselves in my feet.

Through the open window, I heard them.

The engines were loud, obnoxious, and tore down the street. Outside the bathroom door, whoever it was stopped immediately. I watched them touch the knob, wobbling it on my end before they must have stopped. I pushed myself up with a hand, sucking in a breath as I pulled myself out of the tub, glass coming with me as I dripped blood onto my bath mat.

“ _Kid!_ ” There was a shout and loud footsteps. Just as I was trying to get myself off the floor, the door to the bathroom burst open into the small space, nearly taking out my shin in the process.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Tony stopped short, gun in his hand as stared at me.

I braced myself on the floor, staring up at him as I sucked in a ragged breath, tears burning my eyes. “What the _fuck_ just happened?”

He holstered his gun and stepped into the bathroom, helping me up from the floor and then half dragging me to sit on the edge of the bed. My feet were screaming in pain and I turned to stare at the bedroom door, half off its hinges, the wooden chair destroyed to the side. Straight down the hall, the guys appeared.

Steve pushed his way into the bedroom first, looking around before taking stock of me. Tony was on his knees, staring at my feet. It felt like I was living through a nightmare as I felt Tony pull one of the shards out. Biting my tongue, I stared at Steve, watching as Nat and Bucky came down the hallway, both of them holstering guns.

“No one out there.” Nat stared at me, then turned her attention to Steve. “Found some… shit though.”

Bucky slowed to a stop, then shoved past Steve, forcing his face into the room. “What the fuck happened? Are you okay?”

I stared up at him wide-eyed. “Do I _look_ okay?”

“Hey,” Tony snapped at the two of us. “One thing at a time,” he tugged another piece of glass from my heel and I lifted my head back, letting out a long shaking breath.

Steve cleared his throat, catching my attention before he looked around, eyes landing on the broken chair. “Tell us everything.”

I recounted the whole thing again, holding in every ounce of me that wanted to scream and kick Tony away from me. My voice was shaking at the end, lace with emotion and forcing down the urge to break into sobs. “What did you find outside?”

Nat glanced away, looking at the window and then shaking her head.

“What,” I repeated myself, “did you find outside?”

Steve looked to the side, then finally met my eyes again. “A dead cat.”

My blood ran cold, that did it for me. I leaned over off the side of the bed and threw up the sandwich, retching until it was just bile, shakily steadying myself on the bed. Tony let out a loud string of curses and moved back, but Bucky stepped towards me, tugging the half-fallen silk wrap off my hair and pulling it back off my face as I breathed hard.

His hands were cold but felt good on the back of my clammy neck as he touched the nape gently. This close he smelled like oil and sweat. Breathing hard, I looked up at the other three members.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Nat was the only one who could meet my eyes. “You caught Thanos’ attention, that’s enough.” Her voice held something else underneath the blunt words, and she glanced at Bucky before looking back at me. “We should take you back to the auto shop, Bruce can patch you up.”

“We could call Strange,” Tony muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and then shaking his head as he looked around my home.

My feet were aching but it wasn’t like the wounds were deep, they just _hurt_. “I’m not going to the hospital.” I pushed myself up off the bed, Bucky’s touch falling off me as I looked at all of them, licking my lips. “I can’t stand hospitals.”

“Right,” Steve muttered, shaking his head. “Buck, can you handle her on your bike?”

“Yeah,” His voice was rough and I turned to look up at him. His eyes were glued to me and I pushed my hair back, clearing my throat as he turned slightly. “Make sure Bruce is on his fucking way, I don’t want her having to wait to get patched up.”

Nat helped me throw a couple of things into a big purse I had shoved in the back of the closet while Tony, Steve, and Bucky taped tarp over the broken window in the bathroom. Someone cleaned up the vomit, I wasn’t sure who — Nat wrapped my feet enough to keep them from getting blood on a pair of shoes as I shoved my feet into them and limped outside.

Bucky made me sit in front of him on the bike, boxing me into his body and keeping me steady. Somehow we all made it to the Autoshop, where the gate was closed as we pulled up. Steve got off his bike and tugged it open, letting us through.

Between Bucky and Nat, I made it into the bar and collapsed into a chair eerily similar to the shattered one back in my bedroom at home. Bruce came in from a different door, a hallway visible behind it. I was immediately distracted as he dropped a huge first aid kit onto the table and coaxed my feet up onto another chair. As he peeled the makeshift bandages off it, he clicked his tongue and glanced over at Tony who was drinking something brown behind the bar.

“Want one?”

“No.” I stared at my phone in my hands and sucked in a breath. All I wanted was to curl up and sob.

The door from the garage opened and Steve walked in, phone to his ear as he talked loudly. “No, _goddamnit_ —“ He shot Tony an exasperated look, “Yes, give _him_ the phone. I don’t give a —“

Tony held his hand out and Steve held his other hand up, angrily pacing back and forth. Finally, he stopped short. “Jesus, it should _not_ be that hard to get you on the phone, Thor. We have a problem.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to imagine that the phone conversations that Steve and Thor have are both parts hilarious and arguing who's better at fortnite. This phone call is probably the rare 5% that contains actual work.


	4. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ottie learns some insight about Thanos from Nat, and finally understands the scope of the hit she's put out.

I called out of work as soon as I was sure my boss was awake to answer the phone. He sounded groggy and put out and told me next time to send an email. When I hung up, I glanced at the clock on my Home Screen, watching as it ticked over to six.

Rubbing my eyes, I shifted in the chair, blinking as I looked down at my feet, bandaged and wrapped. They weren’t _too_ bad according to Bruce, who assured me that he did _have_ a doctorate, though not a medical one. Mostly, they just ached, deep in the sole of my foot where a deep piece of glass had embedded itself.

I leaned my head back for a second, taking a deep breath and savoring the silence of the bar for a moment. Multiple Sons had referred to the room as the clubhouse, which made sense, considering the wall of history to one side and a couple of doors that led to… a glorified conference room, and then the doors that I watched Bruce come in from.

He had disappeared back into them, giving me another glimpse of the hallway of doors, but no one else seemed inclined to explain what was back there. Steve stepped out an hour and a half ago, still talking to the other Odinson brother — Thor — on the phone.

My head felt like it was full of cotton as I yawned and shifted to move both my feet off the chair. They would be fine, it was just achy. I pushed myself up and limped over to the bar, still in my pajamas. As I leaned against the back of the bar, I tugged the fridge open and pushed past bottles of beer, it was tempting to get drunk before the sun rose, but I knew that the alcohol would just make my feet bleed again.

I wrapped my hand around a bottle of soda and leaned back up, looking closer at the photos shrouded in shadows that were hanging behind the bar. They were more similar to the old ones on the wall, I noticed the same people — Sam had told me their names but I couldn’t remember them. There were original members, and then another woman with brunette hair, who looked extremely similar to a man as they stood with arms slung around each other.

The door from the garage opened and I jumped, turning to look as Peter walked in. His leather cut was slung over his shoulder and he stopped short and stared at me.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” I moved out from behind the bar awkwardly, leaning against the edge as I winced back the feeling of walking.

Peter glanced from me to the door behind him and then back. “What…?”

I didn’t feel like recounting the whole night, so I cracked open the soda and shrugged. “Someone broke into my house, someone, somewhere is now dealing with that and I’m here.”

He raised an eyebrow and then shrugged. “Okay then.” Peter walked up, throwing his jacket onto the edge of the bar and then moving past me to start up an ancient-looking coffee maker. I shuffled around and then slid myself onto a barstool, watching him with my head on my hand.

“So you and MJ, huh?”

He glanced over at me, grinning slightly. “Yeah, she’s great.”

I laughed softly, looking down at the soda. I remembered them in high school, inseparable as friends and a couple that everyone knew would happen, it wasn’t an _if_ it was a _when_. I was a little glad that they had finally become something else, though a small part of me wondered how Peter found himself in a motorcycle gang of all things.

Peter turned around, crossing his arms across his chest as he waited for the coffee to pull. From this angle, we were staring right at each other, and he suddenly seemed too big for the plain white shirt he was wearing.

“You good, Ottie?”

I raised my eyes to the photos behind him, unable to meet his searching look. “I think I will be.” Clearing my throat, I adjusted on the barstool, drumming my fingers against the bartop anxiously. “I don’t know what everyone knows and what no one knows.”

Peter leaned off the bar and came to rest near me, leaning his elbows onto the bar as his face turned up towards me. He blew out a breath and then pressed his lips together. “I’m not exactly invited into meetings most of the time, but apparently you were a special case.” Peter looked down at my drumming fingers and I stilled them, curling my hand into a fist. “A hit? Out for the leader of the only mafia that opposes the Odinsons from here to San Diego?”

“Yup,” I popped the “p” and took a swig of the soda. I should have just gotten a beer.

He shrugged and leaned back up, grabbing a bunch of mugs and clanking them as he sat them down on the bar. “Just be careful, I don’t think that a break-in is the worst that could happen.”

“The worst has already happened.” I pushed off the barstool and winced, forgetting momentarily as both feet hit the floor with a smack. Looking up at the ceiling, I exhaled hard through my nose and walked toward the door to the garage. Tugging it open, I looked out on the lot, glancing around the garage. There was a light on in the office and I glanced down at the garage floor, too wary to walk across it barefoot.

There was a loud metallic sound and my head swiveled back, watching as someone tugged open the main gate for the auto shop. Three black cars pulled in and I immediately forgot the concern for my feet, rushing across the garage and stopping just before the dirt and gravel.

The first car stopped and the driver got out but was too slow as the back door threw itself open. Loki appeared - long legs, a black suit, and a button-up pushed halfway up his arms.

Loki turned his head, ignoring Steve and Tony as they approached, zeroing in on me standing just inside the garage. I couldn’t decipher his look, but I didn’t have to as he brushed past both other men and strode towards me. He shook out his suit jacket over his arm and then swung it around my shoulders.

“Can’t leave you alone.” He muttered, looking down at me, eyes flickering over my face. There was a hint of affection in his words that took me off guard, but at the same time, his jacket smelled clean, cutting through the ever-present smell of oil permeating the garage.

I tipped my head up and shrugged, “I survived.”

He stared down at me and then tapped my chin with his hand. “Yes, you did.”

Someone cleared their throat and I turned to look, watching as Tony, Steve, and Thor all stood outside in the rising morning light.

“Loki,” Thor’s voice was deep and strong. “We should address this.”

Loki looked back at me, a glimmer of something behind his eyes as he smiled at me. “Be right back, darling. I have to find out who I’m murdering for you today.”

I had a strong sense that this was his version of foreplay as Loki strode away, adjusting his sleeves as he approached the other three men. They all faced each other, talking quietly, words unable to be carried across the air.

As I stood, wrapping my arms around myself and pulling Loki’s jacket closer, Nat walked up and stood next to me. Her hair was piled on top of her head, thick red strands in a bun as she held two mugs of coffee. Pushing one mug towards me, I took it and took a sip, the crappy, cheap coffee hitting my veins.

“Will you tell me what you found?”

Neither of us looked at each other, but Nat took another drink and cleared her throat, her voice quiet. “When we went back to your place, we cleaned up what we could — whoever it was killed a stray, left it with a couple of knives in it, and then must have run as soon as they heard our bikes.” Nat watched the four men, her eyes narrowing. “The Thanos family is a lot of things, but he wouldn’t do that kind of dirty work himself, it was probably one of his bitches.”

“I’d like to think I’m adjusting well, but I have no idea who he is other than a piece of shit.”

Nat choked on a laugh, nearly spitting her coffee out as she turned to grin at me. “That’s accurate.”

I shrugged, downing half the mug in one go. “Seriously, I only remember a couple of people. With him, I mean.” I looked ahead as Steve and Tony argued about something, “From that night.”

_“Here you go.”_

_“Oh I didn’t order anything else.” I pushed the drink back towards the bartender, glancing away from Darcy for a second._

_The bartender was mid-step away when he turned and looked back at me. “Yeah, some guy at the end — said it was for you.” His eyes flickered away and I followed them to a tall man with broad shoulders, flanked by a thin man easily an inch or two taller, then a woman with fierce features._

Nat was quiet, then lowered her empty mug, letting it hang loosely by her side. “He’s never alone, but mostly he’s with one of the brothers and someone else.” At my silence, she turned and looked at me. “There are Corvus and Cull, two dumb fucks with an eye for violence, Corvus is married to Prox, who’s permanently got a staff shoved up her ass, and then Maw, a creepy little fucker.”

I stared back at her, the names and descriptions matching up with the memories. “I think that night Prox was there and Maw.”

Nat nodded, then looked over at the guys. She seemed to debate for a moment before walking out into the morning light and striding over, inserting herself in the conversation. I rubbed my nose, sighing and finishing my coffee before turning and heading back into the clubhouse.

Peter was gone from behind the bar, replaced by Barton who was dragging his feet and a mug over to a table. I put my mug in the sink and rinsed it out, washing it before yawning and turning to watch as the doors opened again.

Bruce came out from the hallway, various doors open, as he ruffled his hair, I realized that they were bedrooms.

Slowly, everyone seemed to emerge, grabbing cups of coffee and falling into seats around scattered tables. Peter came out of the main office and gave me a half-smile before turning around to do something else. The door creaked from the garage and Tony poked his head in, scanning the room before zeroing in on me.

“Kid, mind coming out here?”

I resisted a tired groan but stepped back out anyway, wrapping my arms around myself as I walked with Tony to the edge of the garage. Thor was the first one to turn, walking over slowly. With each step I realized just how tall he was, craning my neck upwards as he stopped in front of me.

“Hello,” he smiled slightly, holding out his hand. “Thor Odinson.”

“Ottie Dugan,” I grasped his hand and shook it with a little smile, “Nice to meet you.”

Steve and Loki made their way over and I shrugged off the jacket, holding it out to Loki. “Thank you.” Turning my attention to Steve, I hesitated. “Can I _finally_ go home?”

Cool hands brushed mine and I glanced away from Steve’s twisted expression to watch Loki take the jacket back. Crossing my arms over my chest, I looked between the four of them, raising an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Listen, kid —“ Tony started, but at my look he let out a long breath and turned to look at Steve.

I couldn’t believe four grown men were having this much trouble. “I get it, someone broke in, I had to call in a damn favor because I didn’t want to _die_.” I stared them all down, holding myself tighter, “But I’m _fine_. It can’t be this difficult to track someone down and kill them.”

“There’s an order to these kinds of things —“ Thor started.

“Well that’s not exactly how it works —“ Steve talked at the same time as him and the two of them looked at each other.

I threw my hands up into the air. “Okay, so what now? What’s step two after someone tries to _murder me in my bathroom_?”

Loki cleared his throat and drug my attention over to him. With the sun rising over his head it was causing the same halo that had him backlit the day I asked for the hit in the first place. He rubbed his thumb across a ring on his right hand and then looked down at me, “We’ve decided it’s safer for you to be with someone all hours, clearly this isn’t a normal scenario. Otherwise, we would have already killed Thanos — but it’s Thanos, he’s surrounded himself with a few like-minded psychopaths. Eyes on you from our side will help keep eyes _off_ of you from their end.”

I stared at him, blinking slowly as my mouth opened. “You’ve decided.” Looking around at them, I blinked again, scoffing. “Oh, I’m sorry, I assumed conversations about me would _include me_. Especially considering I’m the one who was assaulted in the first place!”

Tony had the good graces to look pained by the conversation, but Thor and Steve just stood strong. I swiveled, looking at Loki. “You have to be kidding me. Just fucking shoot him.”

“You didn’t exactly ask us to take out the fucking bag-boy at the supermarket.” Loki spat the words back at me, looking me up and down. “And now we know that they’re not above bypassing us and killing you. You turned this from a drunken conquest to a _challenge_ , what did you expect would happen?”

I set my jaw, staring at all of them, eyes flickering from Tony to Steve to Thor before finally landing on Loki at the end. “Why did I even bother with any of you.” I turned, ignoring the ache in my feet as I stared back into the clubhouse to gather my things. “I’m going home, someone tell me when the hit I put out is completed.”

Jerking the door open, I ran straight into a solid chest, a little _oof_ escaping me as I was knocked nearly off balance and onto my ass. Bucky steadied me with a hand, looking down at me, and then raised his eyes past me to stare at the others.

“I can see the conversation is going well.”

I shoved past him in the doorway, marching past Sam and Nat just to grab my things and shove my feet into the pair of shoes that now had bloodstains on the inner soles. As I marched back out, I walked right past the four men and towards the gate to the auto shop.

“You don’t have a car!” Steve shouted the words at my back and I prickled, angry and exhausted.

Grabbing onto the edge of the gate, I turned and looked at him. “I’ll fucking walk!”

_“Where are you going, sweetheart?” His voice was slurred, just a hint of alcohol in his words as his hand wrapped around my upper arm._

_“Home.” I tried to shake him off, my stomach rising into my throat as his grip tightened._

_“Before we have fun? Come on, I bought you so many drinks tonight, you owe me a little fun, baby.”_

I stopped short, hand on the gate before jerking it open, my heart racing as I stepped out onto the sidewalk and pulling my bag onto my shoulder. It only took a few minutes before I heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. I was barely a few steps up the road, almost a full block when someone pulled up next to me. I refused to look up at whoever it was, keeping a crawling pace next to me as frustration and anger boiled inside of me.

I just wanted help. I just wanted revenge.

Stopping on the sidewalk, I turned, staring at Bucky who slid his bike to a stop and balanced it with a foot.

“Can you even kill him?”

He looked up at the sky for a moment, humming. “Probably,” He titled his chin back down and then sat back on the bike, rubbing his jaw. “We’ve killed worse.” He shrugged and then stared at me. “Steve’s heart’s in the right place, Tony’s too. I can’t vouch for Thor or Loki, they’re involved in some deep shit.”

I softened slightly, wrapping an arm around myself and looking around the stretch of empty road. My voice shook slightly, “I just don’t want him to do it to anyone else.”

Bucky hesitated, then kicked his stand down on his bike and swung his leg off. As he stood, he stopped in front of me and then touched my arm gently. “Pretty extreme reaction — refusing the hospital and putting out a hit.”

I set my jaw, looking away from him and refusing to meet his eyes. “You weren’t there. No one was.”

He fell silent but didn’t look away from me. The silence settled between the two of us before I finally looked up at him, square jaw, hair pulled back, same dirty henley he had worn last night and appeared in this morning. I imagined he threw on the first thing he found when I called.

“I thought it’d be simple.” I hugged myself, I wasn’t sure why I was telling him all of this, but it spilled out anyway. “But instead it turned into something else, something that I can’t control anymore and now it’s in other people’s hands instead of mine. It should be _my_ decision, I just need the help to do it.”

Bucky turned his head, his brows knitting as he looked deep in thought for a moment. “You cancel the hit, you go back home and Thanos does what he’s going to do, either sending someone after you or killing you himself.” His eyes darted back to me, his tone growing softer. “You keep it, the Sons work with the Odinsons — all of us — in making sure that nothing like this morning ever happens again, including you calling me at three in the morning.” His mouth lifted slightly in a half-smile. “Unless you’re just looking for some company.”

I scoffed, reaching out and pushing at his shoulder. He didn’t move, but it made me feel a little better. “Yeah, not going to happen. Your’s was just the number I had.”

“Okay.” Bucky smiled a little more, tilting his head at me. “So come back to the clubhouse, sleep on one of our shitty couches, and tomorrow someone will make sure you get to work. This time without a break-in or your car getting gutted.”

I wrapped my arm back around myself, feet aching slightly as I nodded and looked over at his bike. Wiping at my nose, I sucked in a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated the word, motioning for me to get on.

I climbed onto the bike, settling in as he swung onto it behind me. It barely took a minute for us to swing back into the parking lot of the auto shop. Two of the three cars were gone, but Loki was standing outside of one, hand on the door to the backseat. I climbed off the bike, walking over to him slowly and hesitating.

“We’ll settle this, but we need time.” He couldn’t meet my eyes. “The Sons can at least keep you safe in the meantime.”

I swallowed, keeping my eyes on the side of his face. “I’m not going to ask why you’re willing to do this, because I’m not sure I want the truth right now.” Clearing my throat, I took a step back. “But I do appreciate it.”

His head turned slightly, taking me in before he nodded slightly and ducked, getting into the car. I stood a safe distance away, watching as it swung around in the lot and pulled out from the auto shop. Barton pushed the gate shut and I sighed as Bucky came to stand next to me.

“Have you eaten?”

“Yeah, my dinner last night ended up on your shoes this morning.”

He nodded. “Come on, I’m pretty sure I can find you some breakfast.” I turned to look up at him, but he was already walking back towards the garage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least now everyone is on the same page! It only took a break-in, a sleepless night, and Ottie nearly dying. I also have a severe soft spot for Tony adopting every wayward child he can.


	5. Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ottie's life becomes an unbearable loop of isolation and babysitting by the Sons, unfortunately, they're not the only ones who have eyes on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Quick note - Ottie is biracial, I am not. I did research to form scenes on Ottie's textured hair and the effects it would have on it for her to ride bikes and wear helmets. I'm sorry if anything isn't accurate, please let me know in any comments and I will go and amend anything! I imagine her coil is somewhere between a 3B and 3C, and as I briefly mention in this chapter, her skin tone is similar to Tessa Thompson's/Valkyrie's though slightly darker. 
> 
> It's my goal to make her as accurate as I can, but I understand that I am also at fault if anything is inaccurate or a misrepresentation! Thank you! <3

I ate eggs and bacon alone at a bar table, then fell asleep in a shitty, cracked leather chair inside the clubhouse. When I woke up slightly disoriented with a crick in my neck, I wandered out into the garage, but no one seemed to be around anymore. Hesitating at the edge of the garage, I stared out into the lot, spotting a couple of bikes still parked, but a good chunk of them were gone.

Turning, I caught a glimpse of someone inside the office and stepped up, pulling the door open and hesitating as Bruce looked up from a stack of papers.

“Hey,” I wasn’t sure what to say, so I pulled the door shut behind me and wrapped my arms around myself, glancing around. “Where is everyone?”

He cleared his throat and took a sip of something from a mug. “Uh…” Bruce squinted at me and then seemed to come to a decision before sighing. “Work, not auto shop business.”

I nodded slowly, laughing lightly. “Understood.” It felt like I was walking a fine line between being inexplicably involved because of who I was and the request I had made of the Odinsons and the Sons as a whole — but at the same time, I _wasn’t_ a part of it. I was an outlier, a client at best.

Bruce resumed looking at the pages in front of him, then glanced back up at me. “Oh, Tony said your car is going to take some time, so if you need to go somewhere, work — something — Peter is the option or someone else on the crew.”

I nodded, blinking at him. “Oh, okay, why Peter?”

Bruce grinned. “He’s the prospect, he still has to earn his cut and patch, I’m pretty sure Tony would drop the kid in the desert with nothing but a pistol and a bud light just for fun.”

I took a step back, laughing and shaking my head. “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Oh,” Bruce pushed a scrap of paper to the edge of the desk and I moved back, catching it before it fell off the side and to the floor. “That’s numbers, in case of an emergency.”

I looked down at the page, scrawled numbers in various handwriting’s — every number had a name next to it — or rather every name had a number, except for Bucky, where there was just a scrawled “ _you got it, use it_.”

Glancing back up at Bruce, I smiled again, “Thank you.” He took that as a cue to smile back before looking back down at whatever he was working on. I wandered back out into the garage, moving in a small circle around two cars that were both partially suspended, being worked on. As I fiddled with the piece of paper in my hands, I walked back into the bar and clubhouse area, picking up my phone and scrolling through my contacts, slowly adding the names and numbers.

When I was done, I looked down at the list of numbers and folded it up into a square. Tucking it into the back of my phone case, I looked around the clubhouse again, blowing out a breath at the emptiness. I exhausted the photos on the wall again, glancing over faces that were familiar in different ways now, then returning to the shitty chair in the corner. I tugged my shirt closer to me and curled up in it, exhausted and relishing in the moment of peace.

“ _Shh, shh, don’t scream_.”

I jerked up with a gasped scream dying in my throat, nails digging into the leather of the chair as I breathed hard and blinked. From behind the bar, Sam jumped two feet in the air and dropped a glass, causing a chain reaction as it shattered, the door to the garage opened, and a sliding door along the far wall with all the photos slid open sharply.

“What the fuck was that?” Tony looked over at Sam as he grumbled and bent to pick up shards of glass.

I sucked in a breath, not exactly fully awake as I rubbed my head. How they had all come back without me waking up — I couldn’t even tell what time it was. Clearing my throat, I pushed up from the chair and then steadied myself of the arm.

“I should really go home and get some sleep.”

Tony stared at me as I gathered up my things. The clink of glass hitting the bottom of the trash can filled the room as I finally turned and looked up. He was still staring at me, and behind him I could see Steve sitting in a room with a huge table.

“No comment? No explanation?”

“It was a fucking nightmare, Tony.” I snapped the words, eyes flickering away from Steve back to him. “What do you want me to say?”

He held up his hands. “Pick your babysitter for the night, then.” Before I could ask what that was supposed to mean, he was retreating back into the room and tugging the door shut again.

I turned to look at Sam and he clicked his tongue at me, “Uh uh, no. I have a date tonight.”

Shouldering my bag, I sighed and trudged out into the garage. It was still empty, but this time one of the cars from earlier was gone and most of the bikes were parked outside. My feet didn’t feel nearly as miserable after this morning’s activities, but I was tired, my limbs felt heavy and my stomach was in knots at the thought of going home, back to work, and back to a routine that seemed too mundane considering everything else that was happening.

Peter was standing next to the bikes and I slowly made my way over, catching sight of Nat sitting on one that was black and red. She looked up at me and grinned.

“So I’m thinking there’s this place just _outside_ —“ Peter turned, then grinned at me. “Hey,” he motioned to the bike he was standing next to. “I’m taking MJ out tonight.”

I tried my best to seem excited for him as he talked to me and Nat, moving back and forth between the two of us before finally hopping onto his bike and waving at us both. When his engine finally faded down the road, Nat looked over at me.

“Will you take me home?”

Nat threw her leg over her bike and nodded. “Yeah, come on, Ottie.”

I decided I liked Nat.

We didn’t have to keep a conversation at all as she sped through the streets of Promise. When we pulled up in front of my quiet house, she threw herself off the bike and walked right in like she’d lived there for years. I found her rummaging through the fridge before I wandered back to the bedroom to clean up the rest of what hadn’t been fixed this morning.

After I washed glass down the shower drain and picked up the broken chair, I took a long, hot shower and made sure the tarp wasn’t budging in the bathroom. I threw a couple of blankets and pillows onto the couch for Nat, and then migrated back to the bedroom to stare at the bed warily.

When I looked up, Nat’s head appeared at the end of the hallway, peeking out from the kitchen.

“Hey,” she called down the hall, “what time you need to get to work?”

It shook me out of my head enough that I responded, then pushed the door shut slightly, wobbly on the hinges after whoever had kicked it in earlier.

+

Sure enough, she was up at six when I walked into the kitchen. Nat followed me with an exhausted look, sipping a shitty cup of coffee from a lukewarm pot I had started twenty minutes ago. She at least had it in her to drive a little slower, but we pulled into the lot of work just as my boss was walking in.

He stuttered to a little stop, mouth popping open as I climbed off Nat’s bike.

“Bye, baby.” She gave me the biggest, shit-eating grin before saluting me and speeding off.

I turned and looked at my boss, then sighed. “New friend.”

He stuttered over his words and I walked past him to my desk.

Wednesday bled into the afternoon, but this time it was Barton who picked me up. Clint had the good graces to look uncomfortable as my boss eyed us both. He drove me home — but he didn’t stay. Instead just before I went to bed, Nat reappeared and said she drew the straw of staying over again. I had to wonder what that conversation among the Sons was like.

I felt painfully isolated by the time Friday afternoon rolled around. As I gathered my things from my desk, I sighed, wondering who was going to be outside this time. It had only been a few days, and already I was exhausted with the back and forth — then the immediate isolation. It was work, sleep, and then back to work, a rotating shuttle of bikers and strange glances from everyone I worked with.

When I walked outside, I stopped short, not a motorcycle in sight as I turned slowly and glanced over at the road. It was quiet and I wrapped an arm around myself, blowing out a breath as I slowly walked down the few steps to the pavement that bled into the parking lot.

Most Fridays Darcy and I would be together, pre-gaming just enough to be happy before hitting any bar from Promise to San Diego — except for that one time we crossed the border and got absolutely plastered in Mexico.

Something felt _wrong_. I had been annoyed with the babysitting, but the sudden break in the rhythm made me wary as I turned to go back inside of work.

A car caught the edge of my vision, plain and white just sitting at the corner of the intersection. There wasn’t anything special about it, except it looked too shiny, too new.

I held my phone tighter in my hand and looked up and to the right, three blocks up was the Odinson building. I could make it.

As soon as I started moving, the car’s lights came on as it pulled away from the corner. I stopped short, watching it turn and disappear down a side road.

My skin was crawling, I didn’t even try to hide it as I broke out into a run, trying to be careful of the cracked sidewalk and the ache in my feet. Ahead, just around the corner at the end of the street, the white car turned, directly heading for me.

My heart crawled up into my throat as I rushed to get to the front of the Odinson building. I reached out for the doors, glancing over my shoulder to watch one of the windows roll down on the car.

_His smile was forced as he grasped at my face, squashing it in large hands._

_“I said don’t_ fucking _scream_.”

He was sitting casually in the passenger seat, eyes sliding over me, a smile lifting the edges of his lips as a woman drove. He raised a hand, waving it at me as he nodded.

I stumbled backward into the lobby of the Odinson building, shaking and gasping for air. In horror, I watched the white car disappear past the building, taking a step backward as I vaguely heard someone ask me if I was okay.

Still clutching my phone, I stared at the doors, terrified to tear my eyes away from them. In my palm, it vibrated and I finally looked down to see Steve’s name emblazoned across the screen, calling me.

“Are you —“ Someone touched my shoulder and I gasped, taking a step away as I turned around, head snapping away from the door.

A tall woman with braided hair was glancing between me and the doors. Her suit was sleek and grey, skin nearly the same color as mine.

My phone stopped vibrating in my hand and I swallowed the bile in my throat. “I’m sorry.” I took a step away from her again, clearing my throat as I did. “I —“ I cut myself off as my phone began to ring again, this time when I looked down it was Nat.

I glanced back at the woman and then answered my phone, turning my head away, my heart racing. “Hey.”

“Where the hell are you?” Nat’s voice sounded muffled and I realized that it was being carried off by the wind. She had to be on her bike. “Steve just tried to call you — Sam said you weren’t at work.”

I raised my other hand, conscious of the woman still staring at my back, talking into her own phone.

“Nat I saw him.” I stared out the glass doors, “He was in a white car, he was waiting for me after work.”

Silence.

“Where are you?” Nat’s words were clearer now, firmer.

“The lobby of the Odinson building,” I glanced behind me to see the woman had walked slightly away, towards the elevators.

“Do _not_ move,” Nat commanded, then ended the call.

I pulled my phone away and looked down at it, one arm wrapped around me as I tried to steady my breathing. The elevators dinged and I looked up sharply just to watch as Loki strode out from them. He didn’t look away from the woman until she said something to him. His sharp features from this angle looked even darker, but when his head swiveled and he caught my gaze, he let out a breath and strode across the tile flooring.

“ _Ottie_.”

I broke at the sound of my name, choking back a sob as I looked up at him. “He was _outside_. He was waiting for me.” I couldn’t hold it back as I broke, tears burning as I took a step towards him.

He hesitated, but I didn’t stop as I dropped my head against his shirt, sobbing hard as one of his hands carefully touched the back of my head, holding me gently. I wrapped my arm around him, shaking as I tried to calm down, but it felt like my blood was electrified, frying my veins from adrenaline and anxiety as it all came crashing over me in a wave.

“Val,” Loki’s voice was hard, turning away from me as he said something to the woman.

I started to pull away, choking a little on a hiccup when the doors opened with a slam. I winced, almost certain that the glass cracked in them as Steve came striding into the lobby, Natasha and Sam both behind him.

“Oh good,” Loki’s voice was dry, “I thought I’d have to _call_ , but now that you’re here I can ask why the _fuck_ you weren’t watching her?”

I stood in the center of it all, looking back and forth from Steve who glanced me over once to make sure I was alright and then turned his attention sharply to Loki. “We would have been if you didn’t have the Sons spread thin across the southern border of California.”

“It’s a simple task,” Loki’s voice was so harsh and cutting, I barely recognized it. Taking a step, I tried to move away, but his hand came down on my arm.

Panic shot through my veins and I jerked away, stumbling back two steps before running straight into Sam. He steadied me and I glanced up, my heartbeat in my ears.

“Clearly the Sons of Fury cannot be trusted to do simple tasks.”

I turned partially, zeroing in on Loki as my eyes narrowed. “And what have you done for me?”

Loki and I stared at each other and he broke, smiling partially and exhaling. “Well, I am facilitating the murder you requested.”

“Not very well.” I spat the words and Sam had to physically grab my arm, holding me back as the anxiety pivoted, rage filling me as I stared at his smug face. “Clearly if he’s outside my _work_ you’re really a fucking great leader, should we all kneel to you now or later, when you fail a couple of hits or completely manage to fuck up another task?”

“Okay, Ottie,” Steve turned around, staring at me and raising an eyebrow, “Outside.”

I exhaled and jerked myself away from Sam, glaring over Steve’s shoulder at Loki before turning and slamming both my palms into the glass door. I was right — it cracked, spiderwebs spiraling out from my fingertips as I stormed out of the office building, inhaling the fresh air sharply.

There was the roar of an engine, but instead of making my heartbeat even jumpier, I found myself turning and watching as one final motorcycle made its way to idling outside the Odinson building.

Bucky tugged his helmet off and looked up at me, then drummed his fingers on his thigh. “Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes,” I gasped, taking the steps down to the road by two before I grabbed the helmet from his outstretched fingers. Throwing it on, I slid onto the bike behind him and pressed my head against his back, the motor revving as Bucky turned the bike sharply. Someone opened the doors behind us and shouted something, but we were already off down the road.

Through the helmet, Bucky’s voice came in clearly. “Anywhere you want to go?”

I cleared my throat, looking up slightly at Promise as it passed by us in a blur. “No, just… not here.”

He nodded and leaned forward a bit. The bike beneath us was solid and I wrapped my arms tighter around Bucky’s waist, pressing my head and the helmet against the space between his shoulder blades, closing my eyes as I felt the wind tug at my clothes. As the bike turned slightly, Bucky’s hand moved from the handles for half a second, touching my shaking hands fisted in his shirt and jacket, cool metal from the prosthetic seeping its way into my skin and bones.

His touch was gone in an instant, back on the handles and focused on keeping us on the road. I felt like I was losing time, blissfully unaware of how long we were driving until he eased us off the highway and into the parking lot of a quiet gas station.

I leaned back, pulling the helmet off my head and shaking my hair out, some of the curls were flattened, but I ran my hand over them, trying to pick the pieces apart, looking up and around. I could see one person inside the station. Bucky threw his leg off the bike and tugged his helmet off by the mouthpiece, shaking his hair out and then gathering it up into a knot on the back of his head, tying it back with a hair tie.

When he looked down at me, I glanced up, balancing my helmet between my legs on the bike, still picking apart knots in my hair.

He grinned slightly, “Do I need to get you a little thing?”

“What?” I tipped my chin up, briefly realizing the only reason Sam and Rhodey had such short styles were to save their natural texture.

Bucky made a motion with his hand, tugging the gas pump out of its holster and then hooking it up to refill the bike. “Uh, shit, it's like… a head wrap thing.”

“Oh.” I smiled slightly, letting my burning arms rest for a second. “Yeah, you’re right, I probably need to wrap my hair before I keep getting on everyone’s bikes, it’s destroying it.” As if to make my point, one frizzy chunk fell against my cheek.

Bucky turned his back on the gas pump for a second, reaching out and pushing my hair back behind my ear. We stared at each other and he cleared his throat, tugging a second hair tie off his wrist. “You wanna braid it?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said the words softly, taking it from his outstretched hand before carefully trying to braid it back into two separate pigtails. Mom’s hair had been coarser, finer curls than mine — which made sense, considering she had been Afro-Latina, while dad was just Irish. I did my best to smooth it out, my hands coming down to rest on the top of the helmet as Bucky leaned against the gas pump.

We stared at each other before he finally huffed and glanced away. “So, what happened?”

The question hung in the air as I looked down at the helmet, flipping the visor up and down. “I got finished with work and no one was there.” Flip. “Looked up.” Flip. “And there was a white car.” My fingers hesitated on the locking mechanism, clicking the visor up again. “I just _knew_ it was him.”

When I glanced back up, Bucky’s jaw was taut, face turned away as he stared off at the scrubby desert around us. “You saw him? He was watching you?”

I nodded, then pushed the visor back down. “Yeah, he was in the car. He waved at me.”

The gas pump clicked and Bucky leaned over, jerking it out of his bike before hanging it up and sticking his hand in one of his jacket pockets. When he pulled it out, he had a cracked leather wallet.

Bucky glanced up at me, his leather jacket falling open, gun on his hip. “We’ll have to go back to Promise at some point, but you eaten yet?”

I pushed off the bike finally, standing and leaving the helmet on the seat. “Not yet.”

Bucky nodded towards the gas station, a little smile on the edges of his lips. “I’ll get you anything you’d like, doll.”

My stomach fluttered, butterflies in my throat as I tilted my head up to look at him and then smiled slightly back. “What a charmer.”

“I try.” Bucky grinned a little wider, then nudged me along towards the gas station with an arm. I walked up to the door and jerked it open, grinning at him over my shoulder as the bell rung over both of our heads. A scrawny man was leaning behind the counter reading a magazine as I wandered down one of the thin aisles full of junk food.

Bucky followed me, the smile still on the edges of his lips. “I know there are a lot of options, so take your time.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I looked at both sides of the row. There was some pop song playing quietly in the entire store and I grinned up at Bucky, all thoughts of work leaving my head as I held out a hand to him, “Dance with me.”

“What?”

I grabbed his hand and pulled him slightly, watching as he gave in, and took a step forward. “Normally,” I grabbed his other hand, fingers wrapping around metal ones, “on Fridays I would go out with Darcy — to a bar or what the fuck ever —“ I spun around him, moving his arms with me as Bucky walked in a little circle to keep up with me. “But I don’t exactly want to go to a bar right now, so dance with me — in this shitty little gas station.”

He took a step forward and then suddenly swung me around, spinning me with a hand. I laughed loudly, not caring if the underpaid attendant was staring at us. Bucky did it again, and then again until my head felt a little woozy and I fell against the front of his chest, pressing my forehead against it. The sensation was different from Loki’s frozen form earlier, no hesitant hands.

Bucky’s left hand smoothed over my messy braids and then he bent down and wrapped me up in a hug. I wrapped my arms around him, closing my eyes for a moment as he lifted me off the ground, entirely enveloped.

When my feet touched the linoleum again, I tipped my head up and looked at him, my heart in the back of my throat.

He smiled softly, lines next to his eyes. “Pick your snack and let’s get back on the road before Steve and Nat murder me.”

I smiled back softly, wrapping my hand around his on my waist.

Bucky threw the receipt for the gas in the motorcycle on the counter and then a couple of sodas and a bag of chips. After we were finished leaning on his bike eating and drinking, he chucked it all into a dirty trashcan and helped me put my helmet back on, the ends of the little braids poking out the back. Bucky pulled the tie out of his hair and grinned at me, holding it in his teeth as he adjusted his helmet and then swung himself onto the bike.

I settled against his back, wrapping myself around him as the sun set and he turned us back towards Promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More soon! This chapter took longer than anticipated but I have a bit more free time now! I did call Valkyrie "Val" even though I know her true name is Brunhilde, it was an easier shorthand to make it seem more in line with a modern AU.


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